Pig
by labellerien
Summary: Hermione has a quick snog, but there are side effects, and Draco has a secret talent.


Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter franchise and am making no money from this.

"Granger, you're blocking my view."

Hermione lifted her head up and stared hard at the table. Draco Malfoy, who was sitting behind her, was possibly the most annoying person she had met in her short eighteen years.

"Look, Malfoy, if you want to see whatever the bloody hell I'm blocking then get your arse up and move around me."

Malfoy sneered. "Why would I make myself move when I could give _your_ fat arse some exercise?" He paused, grinning at the back of her head. "Besides, all you'd have to do is to turn around. Then I could see that fabulous rack of yours."

Hermione's mouth gaped open. She slammed down her quill and turned halfway in her chair. Seeing his smirk widen, she gathered her things and stalked off.

She fumed going down the corridor. She fumed at lunch. She fumed in her classes and she even fumed in her bed.

Then she slapped herself. She should _not_ be exercising all of her energy on Malfoy. He definitely wasn't worth it.

;'';;'';;'';

As usual, the next night after dinner Hermione went to the library. She sat in her favorite corner, a spot she was sure no one had visited in the last ten years.

But then she heard the shuffling of feet and saw none other than Draco Malfoy himself.

She kept her head down as she felt him walk behind her chair. Her eyes stayed glued to her yellow parchment. The hairs on her neck prickled.

Malfoy had been at war with her since the moment he had met her. Why the sodding hell was there a warm sensation in her lower abdomen? Why did his _stupid_ hair fall over his face like that? Why were his cool, grey eyes so enchanting?

Of course, she hated him. That surpassed any other feelings she had. She needn't worry about something so incredibly dumb.

But when Draco Malfoy puts his hands upon one's neck, one does not bother to think of right and wrong, yes and no, or anything else.

His hand was at the base of her throat, his lips mere centimeters from her ear.

Then he kissed down her neck. His tongue traced her jaw and he roughly turned her shoulders to face him. Hermione closed her eyes, partly in need, partly in fear.

As his lips finally met hers she forgot he was Draco Malfoy. His lips held a rugged fierceness, but at the same time a soft need. They were strong, but not overbearing. They seemed to say so much, but so little at the same time.

His hands held tighter on her throat until it became almost painful. She grasped them and tugged them to her face instead, where they adapted to the move, but still held firm.

His tongue darted into her mouth and ran along its roof. He tasted her; she was like wild strawberries and something all her own. Hermione's tongue battled Draco's and claimed his mouth for herself.

But they had to breathe.

Hermione was already lightheaded.

Curse her stupid, small lungs.

Hermione opened her eyes to see Draco's already open. She saw nothing in them. His eyes, unlike his mouth, were emotionless. They were bleak- pale, silver circles on an aristocratic face of the palest complexion. He looked like he hadn't slept for weeks. Hermione thought he still looked like an angel, albeit a fallen one.

No, Draco's eyes were not the key to his soul. And if they were, well… His eyes had been empty. Did that make him and his soul empty, too?

Hermione noticed that he still held on to her face.

He studied her for a moment. His eyes swept from her small widow's peak down to her almost straight eyebrows, then to her nose (he skipped her eyes, she noticed), which was in the middle of being round and being square, to her mouth, whose corners turned down a bit so that she looked like she was slightly frowning, then finally to her chin, which, like her nose, was stuck in the middle of being round and being square.

Draco's jaw twitched and he removed his hard hold on the sides of her face. He seemed to dismiss Hermione the second he looked away from her. He leaned back in the chair beside her, crossed his legs, put his chin in one hand, and stared at the nearest bookshelf. Hermione couldn't figure out his expression, but settled on it being thoughtful.

Then, Draco did something peculiar. While still looking at the bookshelf he raised his wand hand and waved it in Hermione's face. She looked confused for a moment and then became unusually tired. Her head slid forward and onto the table in front of her. She wasn't aware of Draco leaving two minutes later.

;'';;'';;'';

The library was dark and cold when she woke up. Hermione didn't have the faintest idea what time it was, but judging by the fact that the lights were off it was well past curfew. She wished for Harry's Invisibility Cloak, but of course it didn't come.

Then a though graced her mind.

What was she doing in the library?

She knew she always went there after dinner, but then again, if she ever started reading and felt tired she went back to Gryffindor Tower.

Speaking of the Tower, Hermione thought it best to get back before she was caught. After a swift charm she was rendered invisible and managed to sneak up to her own bed undetected. Even after being asleep for Merlin knows how long she fell asleep again.

;'';;'';;'';

Hermione sat straight up in her bed.

She had been kissing Draco Malfoy.

She had been _enjoying_ kissing Draco Malfoy.

What the bloody hell in Merlin's pants was going on?

She remembered he snuck up on her whilst she was studying. She remembered his lips had been so…meaningful.

She remembered that his eyes had been blank and empty.

No, it was a dream. Hermione hadn't been kissing him; she wasn't _that_ stupid.

She made her way to the bath. It was only five-thirty in the morning, but she knew she'd never get back to sleep.

She stood in front of the mirror.

But if it _was_ a dream, where did she get the faint handprints on her throat?

She remembered his grip on her had been strong. Strong enough that, had it been real, it would have left marks.

No, no, no! There was no grip, for there was no Draco Malfoy!

How did her lips get to be so- so- not her own? She couldn't explain it, they just looked different.

After a bath and a glamour charm on her neck she went to the Great Hall for breakfast, where she was one of the only people in the room.

When the rest of the Hogwarts population started to flow in Hermione looked to the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was indeed sitting there. But was there something unusual about him? Hermione seemed to think so. He looked, if it was possible, even worse than last night.

What was she thinking? She hadn't seen him the previous night.

He caught her eye.

What. The. Fucking. Hell.

He was staring at her. Hermione hadn't even realized it, but while arguing with herself about whether or not she had been with him, she had apparently kept staring at Draco Malfoy. And, what was more, while she could have sworn that there was nothing in his eyes, no emotions whatsoever at any point in his lifetime, he looked a bit nostalgic.

Why was Draco Malfoy looking at her and seeming to be remembering something?

He smirked at her while she kept staring.

Well, that sealed it. _Something_ had definitely happened, whether she would admit it or not. When Draco bloody Malfoy looks at you like that, you _know_ something happened.

Hermione was now angry. She had been taken advantage of. Her brain, however, screamed at her that she had liked it, that she had betrayed everything she believed in just to get a good snog out of him. She gathered up her books and bag and marched herself right out of the Great Hall and into her first class, which, with her luck, was also Malfoy's first class.

Advanced Potions wasn't a class for the faint of heart. Honestly, it was bloody awful. Hermione always had to run and get this ingredient, get that ingredient. And her luck again, there was a line in the Potions storage room, and who should she be in front of than Draco sodding Malfoy. Hermione took this as the time to attack. The other students were milling about and being rather loud, so it wasn't like they were going to be overheard.

"Alright, Malfoy, what the fuck did you do to me?"

Draco looked at her, a mask on his face. "Why dear Granger, whatever do you mean? Surely you don't think that _I_ would do something to _you_, do you?"

Hermione pointed her finger up at his face, which was so much higher than hers. "As a matter of fact, I think you would. All I remember is going to the library and waking up past curfew. Then, I wake up this morning to find that I've had a rather strange dream about snogging _you_. Furthermore, I go to the bathroom to see that I have handprints on the side of my neck which, surprise, surprise, you held in the dream. I highly doubt, Malfoy, that it was a sheer coincidence that I had that 'dream' and then catch your eye in the Great Hall. You never look at me, not unless it's to berate me. Now either you tell me what you did to me, or I take this to my Head of House. Don't look at me like that, Malfoy, you know I would!"

Draco had rolled his eyes at her. She wouldn't, because it would mean that McGonagall would have to picture Granger snogging someone, and Draco was sure that the little Mudblood wouldn't want that. "I did nothing. I merely made a complaint about how your smell wafted across the Hall to our table and made me want to vomit."

"Don't fuck with me-"

"Why would anyone want to do that with you?"

"Dammit, Malfoy!" Hermione didn't get to finish her sentence, for the queue had moved up and it was nearly her turn at the supply she needed. She turned back frontward and glared. She would find out what he did to her.

;'';;'';;'';

Three days later, after 'accidentally' sloshing (on more than one occasion) her potion just where Malfoy happened to be seated and scorching three of his robes, and after a day of Transfiguration where Hermione 'accidentally' managed to transform Malfoy into a ferret from across the room, Hermione found herself in hot water. Malfoy had taken it upon himself to corner her in the Potions storage. Hermione was backed into a corner shelf and her shoulders were digging into the odd angle. Malfoy had planted a hand on each side of her head and wasn't letting her go anywhere anytime soon.

"You listen to me, you stupid little wench. You are going to stop purposely pouring your bloody potions on me. You are going to stop flicking your wand at me in classes every chance you get. You are going to stop everything you are doing, Granger, or I will take this matter to _my_ Head of House, and trust me- you do not want to see him when he's angry. Do you understand?"

Hermione wasn't stupid, but she wasn't about to give in to him. "Before I do anything that you want, ever, Malfoy, I want you to answer a question or two. What did you do to me? Better yet, why did you kiss me?"

"I snogged you because you looked like you could use a good snog, and Merlin knows that was the only one you'll ever get. As to the second question…I can't remember that."

"What? You can't answer? You're telling me that you don't remember what the sodding hell you did to me?"

"No, it's no that-"

"Well then what is it, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy sighed. "I know what I did to you, Mudblood. I made you fall asleep for a little while. I just don't know _what_ I did to make it so."

Hermione looked confused. "I don't understand. You made me go to sleep, but you don't know what you did? That doesn't make sense."

"I know it doesn't!"

"Well do you know _anything_, you dolt?!"

Draco slammed his fist into the shelf, knocking an emerald bottle off. He flicked his wrist and the mess was clean. Hermione sputtered. "How- How did you do that? Draco, that's advanced magic."

"I know."

"Normal seventeen year old wizards can't simply flick their wrist without a wand and have things their way."

"I _know_."

"That's advanced, only experienced-"

"_Granger! I fucking know!_"

"So you just thought about me going to sleep, flicked your hand, and I was out?"

"Yes."

Hermione swallowed hard. "I- I supposed that's all then."

"Yeah," he said. Draco removed himself from her and turned for the door. "Don't talk to me again, Granger. Don't you tell a single soul what I can do, either. And if you ever see me in the library… Run. I won't take kindly to seeing you all alone. I just might do something you won't like very much." Draco closed the door behind him.

Hermione thought she should be afraid, but instead she laughed. She wasn't one to run from a fight.

Hermione walked to the door, fully set on ignoring Draco Malfoy for the rest of his miserable existence. However, when she pulled on the door it didn't open. She felt her robes for her wand. Fuck. It was gone. She searched her body frantically.

"Malfoy!" she yelled.

He opened the door a few inches and she saw a roguish grin plastered on his face. He twirled her wand in his fingers.

"Give it here."

Surprisingly, Draco tossed it to her. Even more surprisingly, she caught it.

He winked at her, and then shut the door in her face.

Pig.


End file.
